


Little Dragon

by textbookMobster



Category: RWBY
Genre: Ace!Ruby, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Family Feels, Fluff, JNPR shenanigans, Mother-Daughter reunion fic, Some minor yangst, everyone is adorable and nothing hurts, grimm tamer fic (sort of?), matchmaker fic (sort of), puns, season 2.5 basically, silly fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-10 01:07:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5562856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/textbookMobster/pseuds/textbookMobster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After years of searching, Yang has finally found her estranged mother. But their meeting is brief, and rather than giving Yang closure, it opens old wounds. Misunderstanding the situation, Weiss and Ruby team up to play matchmaker for their two teammates. </p><p>Things get out of hand from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Come along, Little Dragon. Let's see if you can keep up."

Night had fallen over the Emerald Forest. Apart from the occasional howl of a Beowolf, not a sound could be heard. There was an undercurrent of tension here—one that had silenced the forest and stirred its inhabitants into wakefulness. Red slits watched from among the shadows, and if Yang wasn't worried that she would lose her prey, she would have found it strange—this quiet watchfulness. There was a sharpness in their collective gaze, one that belied a Grimm's nature: all animal instinct and violent savagery.

She broke into a clearing and almost fell to her knees at the sight of the familiar temple before her. Sitting on one of the lintels that rested on twin columns was the woman she had been chasing all night. The very same woman who had saved her earlier that day. Lounging around her were adult Beowolves, their bone-white skulls gleaming underneath the shattered moonlight. Yang, unsure of what to make of the scene in front of her, slid into a boxer's stance, ignoring the day's aches that were finally catching up to her.

She knew she should not have come. Fighting, especially in her current condition, was out of the question. And yet—she felt those crimson eyes on her and lifted her head defiantly. "Now will you tell me who you are?"

"You are so much like your father," the older woman said, breaking their staring contest. Fingers tangled along her dark, wild locks—a nervous habit, one that Yang herself did when she felt uneasy. "Ever since I first saw you, I have wanted nothing more than to hold you in my arms again."

"Mom?"

She dropped to the ground and walked past the Grimm, hands caressing bone and fur as if they were nothing more than oversized pets. "Is it so hard to believe?"

Yang's vision sharpened into focus. She felt her Aura flare in response to her Semblance awakening, but resisted the urge to activate Ember Celica as well. "Yes," Yang said, her voice cracking. "Yes, it actually is."

"So you do have my eyes after all." They were so close now. Yang wanted to run, wanted to get away from this woman claiming to be her mother, but she could not move her legs—could not move at all. She felt the brush of leather against a cheek and started to shake.

"This can't be real," Yang whispered, tears flooding her vision. She let herself be pulled into a hug and clung to her mother, as if she held a phantom that could disappear at any moment. "You aren't real."

Raven Branwen laughed, a rich, warm sound. It was the kind of laughter that Yang had always imagined her mother would have. "What would it take for you to believe that I am here with you right now?"

"Well for starters," Yang said, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand, "you could tell me why you've been gone all this time."

"What else could drive a mother to abandon her child?" A pair of Ursai Major lumbered into view, casting long shadows over them.

Yang flinched as one Ursai leaned forward to breathe in her scent. "Please don't tell me you left to be a Grimm tamer."

"And Qrow's humour." Raven slid an arm around her and pulled her towards the temple steps. "I'm a little envious."

"You still haven't answered my question."

"I'm a Huntress, Yang—"

"And so is everyone else in our family," Yang growled. "That's a bullshit excuse and you know it."

"And I had a job," Raven said. She sat on the ground with her back against a dozing Beowolf and beckoned for Yang to join her. "Your friend's White Fang, isn't she?"

" _Was_  White Fang." Yang sat cross-legged in front of her mother, not wanting to get closer to the slumbering Grimm. "Don't tell me you've been trying to hunt them down since I was a kid."

"Not until recently." Raven hid a smile at the sight of a panicked Yang; the Ursai from earlier seemed intent to stay close to them, and had dropped its humongous head on Yang's lap for a nap. "I was tasked to infiltrate an organization of rogue Huntsmen. They were obsessed with studying the Grimm to the point that they would put innocent lives in danger. They had to be stopped—or at the very least, contained."

"What's this got to do with the White Fang?"

"You must know that their leadership had changed recently. That was because of me. I had finally convinced Dan, one of the organization's founding members, to disband and share our findings with the Huntsmen academe. But Argent, he—he was never fond of humans. A mutiny broke out, and many of my friends were killed. In the end, Argent and his group . . . ." Raven shook her head and sighed. "When the White Fang began to wear the masks of Grimm, I knew the worst had come to pass. I have not yet confirmed it with my own eyes but I believe that Argent now leads the White Fang."

* * *

The cafeteria crowd was thinning when Yang finally appeared, shambling towards their usual table.

"And _where_ have you been all night?" Weiss demanded.

Yang grunted as a concerned Ruby pounced on her from behind. "We were _so_  worried," Ruby said, burying her face against Yang's golden mane. "You didn't show up last night, and we couldn't find you this morning either!"

"Just went for a morning run," Yang said in between yawns. "Or a late night one? Had to clear my head, you know? Got pretty rattled during yesterday's fight."

"You smell like you've been grappling with Grimm," Blake said quietly. They crowded around her, three pairs of eyes waiting for an explanation.

Yang pulled Ruby's tray over and began to eat her leftover porridge, eliciting a small "Hey!" from her younger sibling. "I guess I was? Sort of? Had to run away from a few, you know?"

"It isn't like you to be evasive, Yang," Weiss said. "Either you tell us what you were up to or—"

"Or you'll do what, Weiss-guy?"

Weiss huffed and crossed her arms, doing her best haughty heiress impression. "Or I will write love letters to Professor Port under _your name_."

"Ouch. That's a low blow even for you, Princess. Tell you what," Yang leaned forward, licking her spoon with deliberate slowness, "I'll give you the blow-by-blow _after_  classes." Her lips curled in a lopsided grin. With a wink, she slid out of the bench and left the three to stare at her swaying hips, wearing varying expressions of astonishment (and in one case, disgust).

"Did she just flirt with me?" Weiss squeaked.

Ruby pulled a bag of emergency cookies taped underneath the table and started munching on a chocolate chip. She exchanged glances with Blake. "Defense mechanism," the two chorused.

"Still, to have Yang be so cryptic now—"

"Something must have happened yesterday." Ruby offered her ziploc of cookies to Weiss who took the entire thing and shoved the offending comestible inside her school bag. "Hey!"

"You can eat the rest later." Weiss turned to Blake. "Well?"

"Professor Oobleck."

"You don't think—"

"—that she's having second thoughts?" They entered Professor Port's classroom and found seats behind Team JNPR. Yang was nowhere in sight. "She doesn't strike me as the kind of person who would give up so easily."

* * *

Hands braced against the wall, Yang struggled to stay awake as rivulets of water slid down her back. She let out a shaky breath and turned the faucet off, eyes flashing rust red. Long, calloused feet stepped outside the shower stall, heat from her body turning moisture into steam. She leaned on the sink, scrutinizing her reflection: the purpling bruises across her chest, the jagged lightning scar near her left hip, the shallow wound on her bicep—who knew dozing Ursai could be such fussy sleepers?—and reached for the mask resting atop her clothes. She lifted the Grimm mask and peered into its curved slits.

Red flickered into pale violet and back—the flame of rage that burned inside her chest guttering at the memory of gentle fingers around cool skin, the press of lips against her forehead, and that damnable smile. (How many times had she stared at the faded photograph of Team STRQ, traced the outline of her mother, imagined that loving gaze directed at her?)

She startled at the sound of her Scroll playing Ruby's tune and almost dropped her mother's Grimm mask on the floor. Should she answer? She mustered what energy she could and essayed a smile at the mirror. But it chose not to reflect the strength she sought; rather, it reflected the weakness of a heart that knew only the concrete walls of prideful, stubborn youth.

She placed the Grimm mask over her ringing Scroll and began to dress.

* * *

They caught her in the library of all places, hiding between the Autobiography and Automobile sections. For once she wasn't sleeping, intent on the book propped on her knees. Blake, who understood the allure of a good novel, gave her companions pleading looks, but Weiss, having suffered similar looks from her partner, had grown impervious to such tactics.

"And _where_  have you been all day?"

"Careful there, Princess. You're beginning to sound like a broken record." Yang flipped a page and continued reading.

"I'm beginning to wonder," Weiss hissed, "if you're antagonizing me on purpose."

Curious as to what kind of book would fascinate her partner, Blake caught Yang's unease, telegraphed by her trembling hands and stiff shoulders. There was also a glimpse of that familiar red, shadowed by a curtain of gold locks. With sudden boldness, she reached for those hands and urged them to close the book Yang had been reading. The word "Traitor" was inscribed along the spine.

"Hey there, stranger."

Blake cherished her teammates the way she cherished books, cataloguing moments of shared joy and mutual affection in the archive of her memories where she sometimes retreated when the world sought to overwhelm her senses. The softness of Yang's greeting brought to mind a conversation that still made Blake's heart race whenever she recalled the warmth of that tender gaze directed at her.

"We should probably talk," Blake said and pulled her hands away, not wanting to disturb whatever it was that had just passed between them. "Do you think you're up for it?"

"Well, when you ask so nicely, how can I refuse?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The book Yang was reading is called "The Traitor Baru Cormorant." Because it's the kind of book Blake might like to read.


	2. Chapter 2

In the end, Ruby had to sit on her lap to keep her from bolting.

"So, is there something you'd like to share with the class, Ms. Xiao Long?" Weiss drawled. Though she stood, she carried herself like a queen holding court.

Yang rubbed the back of her neck and found a bruise there. Reluctantly, she pulled her hand away and wrapped her arms around Ruby's waist, resting her chin on her little sister's shoulder. "This isn't going to be easy to say."

"Nothing worth doing ever is," Weiss said, sounding immeasurably wise. Yang considered the pun and bit her tongue, trying to fight off the urge to tease her teammate further. Ruby, sensing her discomfort, snuggled closer, a puppy in human form.

While she chose and discarded words, her mind marked potential escape routes and obstructions. _The innocent never run, Yang._  Well, it wasn't like she committed a crime or was complicit in one. "You're . . . the closest friends I've ever had. And I trust you, all of you, with my life. With my secrets. But this is bigger than me."

Weiss laughed derisively and pointed a finger at Yang. If the Huntress life didn't work for her, Yang thought, she could always bring her fight to the courtrooms. She certainly had the tongue for it. "What secret could you possibly have that you can't tell us what it is?"

"Look." Yang sighed and adjusted her grip on Ruby, clutching onto her hood like a lifeline. "I don't even know how I feel about this. I'm still struggling to come into terms with the revelation myself. If I told you now, I might"— _never see my mother again_ —"I might lose the one chance I have at getting this right. I'm not going to risk that for the sake of satisfying your curiosity."

"But you'll tell us someday," said Ruby with the absolute certainty of a child who adored her older sibling. "Won't you?"

"That goes without saying."

Weiss scowled. "Then promise me this. _Both_  of you," she growled, shooting Blake a meaningful look. "Promise me that you won't let this consume you. Whatever it is. We're a team first, got it? And as a team, we help each other." She dragged a flailing Ruby from Yang's arms. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a study session to conduct."

"What's the big deal, Weiss?" Ruby whined when they were finally out of earshot. "I don't remember agreeing to a study session, especially not after that exhausting field trip!"

Weiss sighed and pulled her short team leader into an empty classroom. "Don't tell me you haven't put two and two together, Ruby."

"Okay, I'm officially lost. Like _mentally_. Coz I know where we are, just not where you're going with whatever it is that you're trying to tell me."

"Must I spell everything out for you?"

Ruby sat cross-legged on top of a desk and watched Weiss pace across the podium and back. "Well you could write it down. That would probably be faster."

"You've seen the way Yang looks at Blake."

"I've seen the way Yang looks at everyone. So?" Ruby paused. " _Ohh._  I hate to burst your bubble, Weiss, but my sister liking both boys and girls isn't exactly a secret. She's a lover not a fighter." Ruby slipped a hand underneath the curved desk and pulled out another stash of cookies. "Well, technically she's both." Before she could start on her late night snack, the ziploc bag was snatched from her fingertips.

"No sugar after 8."

"Yes, _Mother_." Ruby huffed and crossed her arms. "So Yang likes Blake. I don't see what the problem is."

Weiss sat on a desk a step down from Ruby, arranging her skirt so that it wouldn't bunch awkwardly from underneath. "Have you ever had unrequited feelings for anyone, Ruby?"

"I did like you longer than you liked me."

"I meant _romantic_  feelings."

Ruby shrugged. "I think a lot of people are pretty, and I enjoy spending time with them. But I guess if you're talking about wanting to kiss someone and hold their hands I . . . I guess not."

"Imagine that you like someone—in a romantic way—but they don't like you back. What do you think will happen?"

"You become a high-functioning alcoholic like Uncle Qrow," Ruby recited, as if these were words that she had said before.

" _Exactly_. And we wouldn't want Yang to be like your uncle, do we?"

"I guess I only ever need one Uncle Qrow in my life."

"Which brings us back to Yang's current dilemma." Weiss slid off the desk and went up the podium, her back to Ruby. "She's in love with Blake and she's afraid of losing their friendship if her secret got out. Furthermore, she's afraid that if things go south, it could break our team apart."

"So, what then?"

Weiss took a piece of chalk from the board and began to write the word "Brainstorm" in big, bold letters. "Isn't it obvious, Ruby?"

"We talk to Yang about it and try to be there for her while she decides whether or not she should act on her feelings?"

"We get Blake to realize that she's also madly in love with Yang."

* * *

Despite the last few days' worth of weariness sinking into her bones, sleep still eluded Yang. Weiss's and Ruby's bunk beds were empty, and she could hear the quiet rustle of pages turning. If she wanted to make her escape tonight, she would have to wait until everyone was asleep.

"Are you awake, Yang?" Blake asked softly from below.

"Nope." Yang turned on her side, using her arm as a pillow. "I'm sleeping like a baby."

"Very convincing." The light from beside Blake's bed dimmed. "May I come up?"

"That's one way to keep me from leaving," Yang muttered. She came face to face with Blake as she twisted to her other side, and found herself grateful for the darkness. "I'll make room," she offered. With awkward limbs and throaty chuckles, they shuffled and bumped against each other, neither minding the accidental brush of skin. Eventually, they settled into a comfortable half-cuddle with Yang's arm around Blake's shoulders.

"I know you're reluctant to talk about it, and I'm not going to push," Blake said. "But I can tell that there's something bothering you, and I want to help, Yang."

"And you can't help if I don't tell you anything." Yang pulled Blake closer, intoxicated by her scent. "Would you believe me if I said that having you by my side is more than enough?" She laughed as Blake delivered a playful swat against her rib. "It's true! It's true!"

"Is it true you were planning to disappear into the night again?" Blake asked when Yang caught her hand, deterring her punishment.

"I couldn't sleep. Had a lot of pent up energy, y'know?"

"And now?" Blake smiled into the crook of her neck, lips briefly touching skin.

"I think I can be convinced to stay."

* * *

Waking up with an armful of Blake, Yang decided, was the best kind of therapy for a broken heart. She slipped out of bed with the ease of someone who'd had a lot of practice and went to the bathroom to change. She caught Pyrrha on her way out, and with a bit of cajoling, got her to agree to a sparring match. "You seem awfully chipper this morning, Yang."

"Aren't I always?"

They found a practice court free—typical on a Friday morning—and started on their stretches. "No weapons today, Pyrrha?" Yang asked, finishing off her warm-up with some squats.

"With the Vytal Festival just a week and a half away, Jaune has advised me not to give away my 'badass' fighting abilities to potential opponents."

Yang saw the light pink flush on Pyrrha's cheeks and grinned. "So you and Jaune, huh?"

"No, no! It's nothing like that." Pyrrha laughed and flowed into a fighting stance, palms open, knees slightly bent. "I'm just a little embarrassed by it all. Please don't read too much into it."

"Too late!" For a shield-bearer like Pyrrha, Yang had expected a more defensive approach to fighting. But the redhead met her attacks with equal aggression, twisting out of Yang's way and delivering jabs and kicks where she could. There was something familiar about her style that nagged at the back of Yang's mind. Where had she seen this kind of fighting before? She jumped away, trying to catch Pyrrha off-balance with a flip-kick, and rolled to her side. "Semblance okay?"

"Go for it."

Without Ember Celica to boost her speed, Yang had to fall back to her footwork. She danced out of the way of Pyrrha's sharp kicks, feeling a thrill run down her spine; Pyrrha's movements were much easier to read now with her rust-red eyes, and easier to anticipate. They exchanged probing blows, the heat of Yang's touch giving Pyrrha pause. "May I?"

"Of course."

With both of their Auras active, the entire room became their battlefield. They jumped off walls to power their momentum, feet seeking vulnerable flesh, and chased each other across the room. Though Yang had the advantage of strength, with Pyrrha's gentle nudges, she missed more than she hit, bringing them back to their earlier impasse. Her eyes could track the trajectory of Pyrrha's attacks, sure, but even with the knowledge of Pyrrha's Semblance, breaking through her defense was going to take more than brute force.

Pyrrha shifted to a low sweeping kick which Yang answered with a vault over her shoulders. Following it with a kick of her own, she faltered at the sight of a retreating Pyrrha who had executed an aerial flip that brought to mind another opponent Yang had recently faced.

"Time out," Yang called just as Pyrrha went for a right hook.

Pyrrha rapped her cheek gently with a knuckle and smiled. "You're a real bruiser, Yang."

"And _you_ , just might be the answer to one of my problems."

* * *

 "Yang, where—"

"Have I been this morning?" Yang gave Weiss a double pistol wink. "Pyrrha and I had a date in the practice courts." She dragged the irritated heiress to their table and sat beside her, grabbing an apple from the fruitbowl. "I think, if I keep sparring with Pyrrha, I can give that neon bitch a run for her money."

"Nice!" Ruby gave her sister a high-five over the table, which transformed into an improv secret handshake between sisters, ending in a parallel flip that switched their seating arrangement on the table, Yang’s apple triumphantly in Ruby’s grasp.

"I'm surrounded by children," Weiss muttered.

"We _are_  children," Blake said, stealing the apple from Ruby's fingertips with the black ribbon around her wrist.

"And _we_  will be late for class if we don't hurry." Yang bumped into Blake, catching the apple from her hand and biting into it before someone else could take it.

"You are—"

"Adorable?" Yang supplied with her most charming smile.

"Incorrigible," Blake said and ruffled her hair before pushing her away. "Are you actually going to class this time?"

"I'm feeling pretty well-rested for once." Yang ran a hand through her hair, looking soft and shy and so very different from her usual self. The mischief in her eyes made Blake's heart flutter. "Besides, I'm pretty sure Professor Goodwitch will kill me if I skip another class."

"I'll write you a lovely eulogy."

"I'm sure you will."


	3. Chapter 3

_"Don't look for me again. Not until this is all over."_

Yang didn't like to think, didn't like the uncomfortable silence that came with it. She'd allowed herself to be pulled into the current again, to wrap happiness around her like a familiar cloak—if it meant putting her teammates at ease. But still her heart ached. To long for a mother's touch . . . .

She lifted her arm and curled her hand into a fist, as if the very act would allow her to capture the shattered moon from above. In the darkness of her mindscape, the moon cut at her palm like broken glass, the reminder of their parting spilling out of the wound, blood-red like her mother's eyes. She felt childish for dreaming up this melancholy image. It was self-indulgent and stupid, and it hurt her so much more than glass digging against flesh.

She pushed herself to her feet and turned towards the north where the Emerald Forest cut the sky, a sharp silhouette of prickly needles. Her feet carried her from Beacon's rooftops towards the Beacon Cliffs, even before her mind could register what she was about to do. With a running leap, she crashed into the foliage, and landed on the forest floor, using nothing more than her Aura and her wits. Unlike the last time she was here, the Emerald Forest was so much louder and full of life. She could hear the footsteps of giants nearby, the crash of Grimm against Grimm—a scuffle?

Amidst this now-alien landscape, she couldn't help but wonder, had she simply dreamed her reunion with her mother? No, no. Her mother's Grimm mask was inside a drawer, back in their bedroom. How could it all be a dream, if the mask was solid and so very real to her touch?

She sank to the ground and pressed her back against a fallen tree trunk, hugging her knees. "Mom," she whispered.

But her mother did not come.

* * *

Two figures stood over an open fire, empty paper bags at their feet. "Is that the last one?"

"For now."

They stood in silent solemnity, two comrades with a shared purpose. One pair of combat boots in size 6 and a half, shifted from foot to foot, its owner staring at the flames with something akin to mortified awe.

"Where does Yang find the time to even flirt with half the populace at Beacon Academy?"

From underneath a cloak, a single cookie was produced. "You'd be surprised."

"Still, I hadn't expected this many love letters to a single recipient."

"You sort of get used to it over the years."

"What was Yang thinking when she hoarded these atrocious things in our closet, anyway?"

"Force of habit." Ruby watched Weiss kill the flame with a flicker of her wrist, the glyph a bright contrast against the grey ashes. "Uncle Qrow was pretty popular back in Patch."

"Still—hoarding love letters?"

"Uncle Qrow said you can use their handwriting to fake signatures."

There was a resounding smack of palm hitting forehead, followed by the comical caw of a bird filling up the awkward silence that followed.

They threw the empty paper bags in a nearby trash bin and huddled together—well, Ruby huddled, Weiss strode—heading back to the main hall. It was a Sunday morning, which meant that most of the students were out in town, taking advantage of the pre-festival sales to stock up on their equipment. Blake was in the library, reading to her heart's content, and Yang was nowhere to be found, a recurring theme lately.

Clearly, it was the perfect opportunity to snoop around and formulate a plan to get the two lovebirds together.  
  
It wasn't like Weiss was rooting for them or anything. She was a practical woman, and it was plain to her the benefits of such a union. Yang was a wild, unruly girl who couldn't keep her foot out of her mouth even if she tried. She needed to be put on a leash, and among the candidates in Weiss's mind, Blake was the best equipped at disciplining her. The evidence was clear: the blonde couldn't say no to her partner. She was, Weiss thought with a triumphant smile, very much under that cat's paw.

(Her puns were _incredibly_ on point. Stupid Yang.)

Not to mention Yang was good for Blake. She had a big, forgiving heart, and she took things in stride, always moving forward no matter what. In terms of combat, she was perfect as their vanguard. True, she was a little reckless at times, but she had a strong will, and for someone like Blake, whose trust had already been broken once, someone who could support her with such unflinching loyalty was surely a comfort. Yang was surprisingly reliable, at least in that regard.

Or so Weiss thought. Standing just a few feet in front of them was none other than the blonde devil herself. Talking. To a dog Faunus girl. Her mental hackles came up. "Ruby, if you'll excuse me for a moment."

As with all things that Weiss did, she was practically perfection when it came to delivering a flying kick to Yang's head. Even her undergarments had been modestly covered by a well-placed foot. "I am sorry for intruding, but I'm afraid our teammate is spoken for." She nodded at the puzzled second-year and dragged Yang back by her orange scarf.

"What was that about?" Yang asked after she'd stop seeing stars.

"You were fraternizing with the enemy," Weiss hissed.

"Jealous, are you now?" Yang lifted the gift bag she'd been carrying. "Sona caught me baking in the kitchens earlier and wanted to share recipes."

Ruby clapped her hands excitedly. "Are those—"

"Already halfway done, Ruby."

"You were _baking_?"

"Yeah." Yang waved at team JNPR who was trying to sneak past them. With a look of alarm, Jaune grabbed Pyrrha and Nora, scuttling away. Ren followed at a leisurely pace. "I heard Ruby's emergency rations were getting low. Anyway, I better go before Jaune gives me the slip again. It's just one practice match—and he's got the full team behind his back!"

Weiss dug an elbow against Ruby's ribs. "Ow! Hey!" After a silent exchange consisting mostly of arm-waves and thinly-veiled threats— _keep your sister out of trouble or else—_ Ruby said, "Um, let me go with you! We can kick their butt together!"

If I was Blake, Weiss thought, her feet bringing her back to their dormitory room, what would my ideal type be?

* * *

Blake, as it so happened, was not reading books at that very moment.

Yang had always been extremely unsubtle. Like a forest fire, she had carved a path through the Emerald Forest, leaving behind shotgun shells, scarred tree trunks, wildflowers and ferns trampled by feet too large to be human. She hadn't been lying when she said she'd gone for a run through these woods.

What could have driven Yang to return here?

She kept her footsteps light, using the higher ground to hide from passing Grimm. There was no need for anyone to know where she had been. No need for Yang to know.

She was just—concerned. There were nights when her partner would leave only to return before the dawn, smelling of blood and Grimm, trembling from head to toe. Blake wanted to reach out, to pull her partner in a tight embrace, to reassure her that everything was okay. She wanted to curl in Yang's arms every night if it meant keeping this idiot of hers within safe walls.

She threw herself to the ground and rolled to a crouch, her weapon drawn. In front of her stood a woman wearing a red and black uwagi, with an obi around her waist. The skirt was strangely familiar, the asymmetry of it reminding Blake of Yang's usual attire. "Who are you?" Blake demanded and took a step back at the sight of the Grimm mask this woman wore over her face. "Are you with the White Fang?"

Blake saw the woman reach for her blade and left an after-image of herself just in time; a moment later, her shadow dissipated into smoke, having been cut neatly in half. She fired a few rounds and extended her blade to its full length, its sheath in her other hand. The woman gave her a short nod before disappearing in a burst of speed.

They met in mid-air, the clash of steel against steel producing a frenzied cadence. Though Blake was on the offensive, she had yet to land a direct hit on her opponent who seemed content to let her lead. The woman defended with an unnatural grace, her odachi moving from form to form, her parries and counters as powerful as they were quick. Blake knew she was being toyed with; though Blake's attacks were beginning to flag, the woman continued to match her pace. Which meant one of two things: this woman enjoyed playing with her prey, or she wasn't planning to kill Blake in the first place. Or, Blake thought, sliding Gambol Shroud back into its magnetic holster, she was buying time. She put some distance between them with a series of handsprings, landing on her feet with Gambol Shroud back in her hand. Around them, the Grimm padded into view.

"You'll do," the woman said. In one fluid motion, she had sliced open a portal and sheathed her odachi. "Leave. Before the Grimm make a feast of your bones."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What Mama Yang said, "You'll do."
> 
> What Mama Yang meant, "No dating my daughter until you best me in combat."
> 
> Updates will start to slow down from here. Winter break's almost over. Cheers.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beta reader and I are literary punks so there's ah, no one to moderate the word plays. You have been warned.

"Dear Blake," Nora read out loud, "I don't know what the catalyst was for this sudden change of heart. You've been nothing but a paws-itive impact in my life, and I find myself drawing claws to you day by day. I know these words are a purr substitute. If I could just find the courage to tell you the words myself, I would. The truth is, there is only room for one feline fatale in my heart, and that's you, Blake Belladonna." She squinted, her mouth moving silently as she tried to parse the last few lines. "Who am I kitten? Blake wouldn't take this shit of a letter seriously. I'm _such_ an idiot. Semi-colon, capital A, semi-colon."

Jaune burst into laughter and fell on the floor, gasping for air. Beside him, Pyrrha hid a smile. "Oh Yang."

Ren looked up from the book he was reading. "Where did you find that letter anyway?"

"Trash bin."

"What."

"Lately, I've been finding ziplocs of perfectly edible cookies in team RWBY's trash."

"What."

"I think Weiss has been throwing them away, which is a complete waste if you ask me."

"Time out, time out," Jaune said, pushing himself to his feet. "So Yang has a thing for Blake? Who knew?"

As one, the rest of team JNPR raised their hands.

"It was pretty obvious." Nora handed Yang's love letter to Pyrrha who folded it neatly in half and put it in her pocket. "I don't think I've seen anyone so whipped. Well, besides Pyrrha."

As usual, the astronomical hint flew over Jaune's head, having missed its plotted trajectory. "Huh. And here I thought Yang and Pyrrha were dating." At his teammates' dumbstruck expressions, he added, "Well, Nora said you liked blondes, and you and Yang have been together a lot lately, and she's always um, she's always delivering these killer lines at you, and I should probably shut up now because you're giving me that look you only reserve when you're about to give someone a thorough butt-kicking. Please don’t kill me?"

"Sometimes I just don't know what to do with you," Pyrrha muttered. She caught the pleading, puppy dog look Nora was giving her and sighed. "So I take it we're going to help Yang win Blake's heart?"

"Yes!" Nora did a double fist pump. "We're doing it man!"

Ren, who knew better than to leave his partner hanging, slouched his shoulders and glanced away in embarrassment. "We're making this happen."

* * *

Weiss was getting desperate. The Vytal Festival was almost upon them, and still she had made no progress in getting Yang and Blake closer together. The classic confession by letter route had been thrown out of the window—well, into the trash—the moment Weiss had discovered that Yang kept all of the love letters she had received over the years, and Blake's trashy romance novels had been enlightening in a completely different way than Weiss had hoped.

(She wondered if Blake would be game to start a book club and immediately backpedaled at the thought. If anyone found out that she actually enjoyed such _subpar_  writing . . . she couldn't possibly look at anyone in the eye ever again!)

So she had to resort to more unconventional tactics. Like raiding Yang's lingerie drawer in the hopes of finding a hidden depth to the girl that she could exploit. It certainly had nothing to do with the fact that she had just read an extremely explicit series with a lot of very interesting kinks by an author who actually knew their stuff. Nope. Certainly not that.

It certainly didn't disappoint Weiss to discover that Yang's taste in undergarments was pretty underwhelming. She rummaged through the drawer, just in case, and found something at the very bottom. It was a bit bigger than her hand, curving inwards, and had prominent ridged lines that converged in the centre. She pulled it out.

"Weiss, where did you get that Grimm mask?"

"Blake, Ruby." With an audible thump, she closed Yang's drawer. "This isn't what it looks like."

Ruby tilted her head. "Were you going through Yang's underwear?"

Weiss quickly dropped her hand which was still gripping the handle of Yang's drawer. "I might have been."

"I've seen that mask before," Blake said, stepping closer. Ruby went to lock the door before joining them on Blake's bed.

"Is it White Fang?" Weiss asked.

"I don't know. I don't think so." Blake frowned, touching the edges with hesitant fingers. "I went to the Emerald Forest, and Yang was telling the truth. She's been returning to that place at night, sometimes, when she thinks we're all asleep. I found shotgun shells and evidence of a fight with Grimm. I also met a woman there, wearing a mask that looks a lot like this one."

"You think it's connected?"

"It's one hell of a coincidence otherwise."

Ruby curled next to Blake. "How do you know she's not White Fang?"

"She wasn't Faunus, and she let me go when she could have killed me at any time." Blake rubbed her neck, embarrassed. "I kind of lost it when I saw that mask but . . . here I am."

"I think," Ruby said carefully, reaching for a ziploc taped underneath Yang's bed, "that we should wait for Yang to tell us what this is about."

Weiss swatted her hand away. "What? You just want to give up?"

"What I want," Ruby said, swatting back, "is for my sister to feel like she doesn't need to hide anything from us."

"It's not like she'll just have a sudden change of heart. And what's up with this mask anyway? Up until now we thought she just had a thing for Blake—"

"What?" Blake grabbed both of their flailing hands and held them gently. "What did you just say?"

"We thought that the reason why Yang was acting strange lately was because she was in love with you and"—Ruby ignored Weiss's frantic abortive motions—"we were going to set you two up." She glanced at their linked hands and sighed. "I still think she likes you, but I don't think she'd go through the extreme and try to single-handedly stop White Fang on her own as a declaration of love because as romantic as that would be, I can't really imagine Yang doing something so roundabout just to get Blake's attention." Ruby paused for air. "I mean, the way I see it, she already has Blake's attention."

"Don't be silly, Ruby. Who'd be interested in that scoundrel?" Ruby gave Weiss a pointed look, jerking her chin towards their shared closet where Yang's mountain of love letters had been previously stashed. "Right."

"I agree with Ruby," Blake said. Before they could jump to the wrong conclusion again, she forged on. "I think if you guys knew about my Faunus heritage before I was ready to share, I'd probably feel betrayed. It was bad enough that it came up while we were arguing. If you guys had found out I was White Fang too before I could tell you? Being able to choose _when—_ that matters to me."

"So we wait," Ruby said firmly.

"Can't we do something at least to keep her preoccupied?" Weiss returned the mask to its hiding spot. "I can't be the only one who thinks that her midnight excursions need to stop."

"Well, I have an idea, but it would depend on how Blake felt."

"About the plan?"

Ruby, having grabbed the ziploc of cookies while Weiss was out of reach, bit into a chocolate chip. "About Yang."

* * *

Yang came to, surrounded in darkness.

"I think she's awake."

"You think or you know?"

"I think I'd know?"

She felt the knot behind her head loosen and blinked at the sudden light of nearby street lamps flooding her vision. Jaune came into view, his face far too close for comfort, wearing a pair of aviator shades. Slowly, he lifted them and nodded his head. "Sup."

The rest of team JNPR waved from within the van. From the front passenger seat, Ren said, "Sorry about the pancakes."

"You drugged me?" Everything was still coming into focus. Yang tried to look out a window, but the street was unfamiliar in the dark of the night.

"We kidnapped you." Pyrrha said. She tucked a strand of hair back, remembered Yang's bound hands, and began to loosen those as well. The van smelled of takeout and wet dog.

"Drastic times call for drastic measures, my friend," Jaune said. "It's intervention time."

Unlike Ren and Pyrrha, Nora and Jaune wore dark clothing—the conspicuous kind that telegraphed 'shady as fuck with a dash of please don't take us seriously'. Yang rubbed her wrists and tried the door handle. It was child-locked. "If this is about me trying to get some extra sparring practice in before the Vytal Festival, I think you've got it all wrong. I'm not trying to spy on the competition, guys. I just don't want to rely on my Semblance too much to get out of a bad situation. I want to get better."

"Oh, that?" Jaune crossed his arms, genuinely puzzled. "We're not talking about that."

"We just want to help you get into Blake's pants," Nora said with a Cheshire grin. "Or get her out of hers."

"What Nora means," Pyrrha said, fidgeting under Yang's incredulous gaze, "is that we all know you like her, Yang, and we just want to help."

"By kidnapping me!?"

"By process of elimination, we realized that the most efficient way to get the two of you together is to have you go on a date. Once your mutual feelings have been acknowledged, it would be up to you and Blake whether or not you wish to pursue things further. We believe that this path is the best as it bypasses the usual courting rituals as defined by modern media, which is too roundabout and complex, and which requires time that we simply do not possess," Ren said in a neutral tone more fitting for a professor discussing remedial lessons with a student lacking in discipline.

"We were lazy," Nora summarized for Yang.

"Not to mention," Pyrrha interjected, "we want you to be happy."

"Hold up. Time out. Can we get some real talk here? Because I am feeling pretty confused right now." Yang shifted uncomfortably on her seat and turned to glare at team JNPR. "So I like Blake. She's fucking amazing and she's been there for me while I'm going through a rough time, you know? She's everything I can ever hope for in a partner."

"See—"

"Nu-uh. You don't get to talk, Jaune. Not when I'm still going. And are those my aviator glasses? Because if they are, I am going to punt you all the way back to Beacon Academy."

"Sorry."

"I get that you're all just looking out for me, and I appreciate that. But this is a lost cause, you guys. In case you haven't noticed, Blake likes Sun. Not me. And I'm _cool_  with that. With a celestial body like hers, she deserves nothing less than perfect. The fact that the guy is named after what is essentially the centre of our galaxy just drives that home."

"I guess she really means the world to you," Pyrrha said, reaching for Yang's hand.

"I have to admit, that was a pretty good pun. B minus."

"Well, why can't Sun just make like the sun and, you know, give Blake some _space_?"

"No, Jaune. Just—no."

"Please pardon our Jaune," Ren said. "He doesn't really understand the gravity of the situation."

Yang wiped away imaginary tears with her free hand. "Oh you guys. I'm tearing up here. This almost makes up for, I don't know, _kidnapping me_?"

"Well, you better pull yourself together, Yang. You're about to meteor date in ten." Nora flashed a peace sign. "We sort of texted Blake and asked her out while you were knocked out."

Yang looked up and raised her hands, palms up, as if a supplicant to some god of irony. "This is probably my last day on this miserable planet and here I am exchanging puns with the nerdiest team ever to exist. I suppose if I am going to go supernova with sheer embarrassment, this is as fitting an end as ever." She met Nora's gaze and said, "There's just one last thing I want to ask before my world collapses into a black hole. Whose bright idea was it to keep me in a van that smells like dog when the woman I'm hopelessly in love with is a _cat_  Faunus?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, Homestuck reference. Nora is a fan.
> 
> Yang's idea of 'real talk' apparently means 'pun-off'. I love team JNPR.


	5. Chapter 5

_"The real reason why you want us to stop snooping. You know, don't you?"_

_"I have an idea, and if I'm right . . . I don't want to lose her, Blake. I don't want her to run away for good."_

Despite being small, the Golden Goose had a lot of charm. Blake sat at one of the corner tables, a cup of lukewarm tea in front of her. Heat from the kitchen kept her warm, and the clink of glass and ceramic had a gentle staccato that blended well with the murmur of conversation from the other patrons. She was pleased to find that this shop catered to Faunus, having spotted a few among the shop's customers.

With such a welcoming atmosphere, it was as good a place as ever to unwind while she waited for Yang to arrive.

Yang had asked her out on a date. (On a school night no less. Weiss's words—if she was sitting across Blake right now.)

And she had accepted. It felt suspiciously serendipitous that Yang would ask her out on the very same day that Ruby talked her into 'seducing' Yang for the Greater Good—bonus points that it's probably mutual?—and it didn't sit well with Blake, this sudden show of interest. It was almost too convenient.

She wished she had brought Gambol Shroud with her.

There was also the matter of Yang's secret. She was pretty sure she knew what it was. Yang could redirect questions like a champion conman, but get her cornered and her non-answers were easier to read than a child's scrawl. Not to mention, she had the same mask Blake's mystery woman wore; surely she wouldn't hide such a damning keepsake unless it held some important meaning to her.

_Unless she's really trying to single-handedly cause the downfall of the White Fang for your sake._

Blake felt her cheeks warm at the thought. For Yang to do something so audacious just to get her attention . . . it was certainly a nice fantasy. Blake wasn't particularly interested in seeing Yang play the hero to her damsel in distress—but to share in that defiance she sometimes showed, that devil-may-care fire that could light a path for the rest of their team, it sent a thrill down Blake's spine. You could stand, side by side, with Yang and still be overshadowed by her brilliance.

Blake saw Yang before she entered the small noodle shop. Wearing a classic men's suit, she looked overdressed considering the location. It was a good fit on her though, and it certainly showed her assets well enough. Blake drained her cup and wished it was alcohol she was consuming; some liquid courage would be nice if she wanted to make this seduction-date work.

"So, so sorry about this," Yang said as she slipped into a chair across her. "My ride smelled of dog and I didn't really want to screw this up so we had to improvise."

Blake adjusted her collar, fingers lingering near Yang's collarbone. "I like it."

"Good, because I had to take a shower at a local gym and wear Jaune's suit straight from the dry cleaners." Yang captured her hand and brushed her lips over a knuckle—a chaste kiss, a more intimate greeting. She coloured and moved to pull away, but Blake shifted and tightened her grip, their hands bridging the distance between them.

The moment was broken when their server arrived, a thick-waisted woman with toned arms wearing an affable smile. (Yang hadn't pulled away.) She took their orders, recommended dessert, and brought them both fresh cups of tea.

"Been here before?" Yang asked once the server had left.

"No, but I was under the impression that you have."

"Yeah, funny story that." Always that cheerful facade. Sometimes Blake wondered what it would be like to break that mask of hers, to brush away that ever-present charm and see past Yang's defenses. It hurt her of course—to see Yang sad. But the blonde rarely expressed herself without restraint. Her bubbling joy, her heady euphoria . . . those were real because they were uncomplicated. People expected Yang to be happy. But her fears, her sorrow. It was selfish of Blake to want more, to see Yang at her weakest, but she longed to be trusted again, to be someone's confidante. Yang hid her feelings the way a poker player might hide a shit hand.

Others used their more volatile emotions to manipulate or to establish dominance. Yang, who laughed and dodged questions she didn't want to answer—she was almost fragile in a way; the few times that she had been sad or angry, it rang true to Blake. Here was an honest woman. Even when she tried to hide, she was so vulnerable.

Blake was familiar with masks. And the one Yang wore was the most transparent of them all.

"I enjoy stories."

"You would." Yang sat up straight and squared her shoulders. "See, I got kidnapped earlier tonight by team JNPR." She avoided Blake's eyes. Even her embarrassment was endearing. "In fact, they were the ones who set all of this up. By the time I came to, you had already agreed."

Yang was interrupted by the server returning with two bowls of noodles and some side dishes. Blake would have found the meal mouth-watering if not for the sudden pressure against her chest, fear wrapping bony fingers around her heart. So—Yang was just indulging her?

"I didn't want for this to happen." Oh. "You are so, so important to me, Blake." Well, _fuck_. Blake would have bolted there and then, if not for Yang's gentle grasp, as fragile as this woman who smiled so often and cared so much and loved so easily. "And I've always been a glutton for punishment," Yang said, her voice hitching at the word 'glutton'. Did she see this date of theirs as a form of punishment? Was it so terrible to be around Blake?

"I thought, why not? If I could have this one night with you, and pretend that our feelings were mutual—"

"If this is your roundabout way of telling me that you weren't interested," Blake whispered, the lump in her throat making it hard for her to speak, "could you, just this once, tell me up front? I don't need your pity, Yang. I am not some charity case."

"What?"

"I know you're just looking out for me, but you honestly didn't have to go through all this trouble."

"No!" Yang said, startling a nearby customer. "Don't you see? This is the most self-indulgent thing I've ever done. I haven't even considered your feelings. I just swaggered right in, kissed you without permission, and acted like it was okay to abuse our friendship so that I could be with you for one night." Yang sighed and leaned back. "I should have opened with that and apologized properly. I'm sorry, Blake."

"Kiss me."

"What?" Yang repeated a second time.

"That last one wasn't a proper kiss," Blake said, after she had found her voice again. "Come over here and kiss me, you idiot."

With mechanical limbs, Yang stood and closed the distance between them. Blake felt the press of Yang's hands around her neck, her touch light. (Out of fear? Out of reverence?) Yang hovered over her anxiously, mirroring what Blake felt. Getting your best friend to fall in love with you so that she had a reason to stay. Was it really alright? For her to do this to Yang? And what do I want? Blake thought, reaching for Yang's shoulders. Anticipation blossomed in her chest, equal parts desire and panic.

They kissed.

There was a promise there, in the heat of Yang's skin, in the achingly slow movement of her lips, in the slide of her hands, which left electric pulses wherever they touched, in the thunder of Blake's heartbeat in her ears, the beast in her breast stirring into wakefulness, amber eyes flashing in the darkness. This, Blake thought, feeling lightheaded with giddiness, this is what I want.

And oh, how she _wanted_  it. A predatory hunger had overcome her senses, and it took all of her willpower to pull away, to leave Yang intact, to keep this still fragile beginning between them from being crushed under the weight of her desire.

"This," Blake said in a rumbling tone, halfway between a purr and a whisper, "this is mutual." She chuckled at Yang's expression: the partly opened lips, the glazed eyes. She could tell Yang wanted to kiss her again, but was too shocked to do more than stare.

They tensed at the sound of silverware clattering on the floor. The burly woman who'd been serving them earlier staggered into view, clutching her side. She scrambled for a fallen knife and turned to face her assailants: a pair of masked men wielding single-edged blades. "Don't you dare harm our customers," she growled.

"So very brave of you," one man said.

His counterpart nodded at a nearby customer whose bowl of noodles was barely touched. "But so very stupid."

As one, the Faunus around them rose, the masks of the Grimm twisting their friendly features into sinister parodies of the monsters whose faces they mimicked. The sudden transformation from Faunus to foe made Blake's heart ache with such terrible sadness. Wearing a Grimm's likeness wasn't just about making a statement; it was about rejecting life—theirs and the humans they hunted. These people who stood before her now wore the masks out of desperation and self-hatred. This was the violence that the White Fang perpetuated, and the reminder of it cut at Blake's heart.

"If this is about Torchwick—"

"Who the fuck _cares_  about that asshole?" Their leader sneered at Yang. "He doesn't lead _us_."

"Then what do you want?" Yang asked, moving to stand in front of Blake.

"We're just following orders here, kid," his second answered. "And orders say you're coming with us."

"I can't speak for my companion," Yang said, "but if you promise not to hurt the others, I'll come quietly."

Blake felt herself relax a little. Like Yang, she didn't want the remaining civilians to get hurt. "I'll come too, provided you keep your word." No need to encourage the White Fang to turn to other forms of violence.

"Good, good. Now stay still. We wouldn't want to hurt you now, would we?" Blake felt the prick of a needle against her neck and looked up at the Faunus standing behind her. When had they—? She saw Yang fall limp into the arms of another White Fang member and tried to move, concerned for Yang's safety. But her body would not cooperate.

If we survive this, she thought as her senses faded into nothingness, I am never going to leave Beacon Academy without Gambol Shroud ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was talking to my friend about the preview for this week's episode, and I told him I wanted to kidnap Yang and keep her somewhere safe, where nothing hurts and everything is alright. He answers back with, "What is it with you and your Yang kidnap fantasies?"
> 
> Anyway, thank you very much for the comments that I have been receiving! They really make me want to write more. :)


	6. Chapter 6

Jaune, resident strategist and all-around good guy, was having a pretty fun night. Not wanting to play chaperone to Yang and Blake's date, team JNPR had found a nice little family-owned diner a few shops down. It was rare moment when all four could bond, and Jaune savoured it like a good meatloaf sandwich.

"Guys, guys, guys, it's _happening_ ," Nora crowed. They hadn't told Yang, but when they gave her Jaune's clothes, Pyrrha had slipped a bug underneath the bow tie, allowing them to listen in and . . . interfere should the need arise. Nora immediately volunteered for listening duty, which worked out for the rest of the team; Nora's expressions of delight and disappointment were basically like checkpoints that told them what was going on. "Blake asked Yang to _kiss_  her. Jaune, you owe me 50 Lien. Told you Blake's the feisty one." She paused. "Oh _my_. Such scandalous noises."

Ren, who sensed that his partner was about to giggle at a decibel higher than what was permissible outside of school, elbowed his partner. "Nora, indoor voice."

"Yes, _Mother_." Nora grinned and braced her hands on the table. "Group high-five?"

"Group high-five," Jaune echoed. They cheered and with a bit of trial and error, managed a highly dangerous 4x high-five combo.

"Guys, guys, guys," Nora said, patting the side of Ren's head, as if she was still enthusiastically trying to connect her palm with another human being's. "I think we've got a situation."

"On a scale of one to ten," Ren said, with the patience of a friend who knew better than to take Nora's overblown declarations at face value, "how bad is it?"

"We are talking _seismic_  here, guys," Nora said. "I think Yang and Blake have been kidnapped."

Jaune rolled his eyes. "Oh, haha, Nora. Like Yang's gonna get kidnapped twice in one day."

"And Pyrrha couldn't possibly have a thing for you, am I right, Pyrrha?" Nora grinned and dragged Ren to his feet. "Me and the ninja are gonna go investigate. Tally ho!"

Pyrrha laughed awkwardly. "About that . . ."

"No, no, I get it." Jaune said as he stood up to pay at the counter.

"You do?" Pyrrha sounded skeptical.

"Yeah." Jaune waved his hand vaguely. "Nora's just looking out for us, you know? She just wants us to be happy. Heck, I want _us_  to be happy. But just because it would be super convenient if we ended up together doesn't mean that we should. You deserve to have someone as gorgeous and amazing as you." His eyes lit up. "What do you think about Sun? I mean he's blonde." He saw the flush on Pyrrha's cheeks and grinned. "Is he your mystery man all along? Because for the longest time I thought it was Cardin Winchester which would have been _weird_ , and then Yang started hanging out with us, which, you know, was cool if you swung that way, but I get it now. Blake's a friend, and you didn't want to fight her for Sun. Well, now you can. Um, woo Sun that is. Not fight Blake for—you know what I mean."

"I'm not interested in Sun," Pyrrha said. She picked up Ren's book—he had dropped it when Nora had spirited him away—and waited for Jaune to pick up his scattered notes. He had been devising strategies for the Vytal Festival while they ate. "Or Cardin. Or Yang."

"Really?" Jaune shoved his notes inside a pocket and followed after Pyrrha. "I'm beginning to think that Nora already knows who you like and is just milking me for Lien with her silly bets." He ruffled his head and laughed. "I owe that woman another 50 for guessing wrong again."

"You're making bets on who I like?"

He shrugged. "You know Nora. Once she's set on something, she goes for it. I just have to minimize the damage next time."

They saw their two teammates standing just outside the Golden Goose, having a Conversation. Nora gesticulated wildly, and talked liked a rapid-fire machine gun. Ren, who listened with an intensity that looked alien compared to his normal, sleepy-eyed indifference, would interject at just the right time, steering the direction of Nora's verbal thought processes elsewhere when he felt she was chasing a dead end. They'd seen the two talk like this once before. It was . . . an experience.

Ren saw them approach and clamped a hand over Nora's mouth. "Ready?" He waited for her nod before removing his hand.

"The White Fang took Blake and Yang. We considered the usual locations where they might have been taken: warehouses, unfinished apartment blocks, secluded mansions built into the mountains, but the first two aren't very stable locations for a powerhouse like Yang, and there are very few secluded mansions in this area. The three and a half that we know of are either owned by organized crime or eccentric billionaires. Ren suggested we should take our listening equipment to this guy I know and see if we could trace Yang's signal instead."

"Breathe, Nora," Ren said. "We can probably trace the signal of the bug that we planted earlier. If it's been cut off, they might have gone underground. Mountain Glenn's got a sprawling complex of unexplored tunnels, so it's perfectly possible that they're still stationed there."

Jaune glanced at Pyrrha, and then back at the two. Nora looked like she had more to say. "Sounds like a plan. Fill us in on the rest while you drive?"

"Yessir!"

* * *

Yang dreamt.

It was the same dream every night: hulking silhouettes, the temple clearing, and her mother—the memory of that encounter like wisps of smoke curling around her. Intangible. Fleeting. She asked the same questions and her mother answered in kind. The answers would always grate at her, words that might as well be riddles, words that did not comfort, that did not remedy the ache of a child wanting to be loved. Because Yang—she grew up knowing only the distant love of a father who saw too much of Raven in her. Oh, Summer and Ruby, they loved her like she was precious, like she was family. But Summer had died too early, too soon, and Ruby was her sister. She needed Yang more than Yang needed her.

And here was her mother, in flesh, and bone, and blood, smiling a smile that carried the warmth and fondness of a parent who loved their child. It was a smile that cut at Yang's heart.

Because her mother had _abandoned_  her.

To so casually look at her now with those damning eyes and pretend that a chasm did not exist between them, that the last seventeen years had not happened . . . it was just cruel.

Yang wanted to wake from this memory-nightmare, to claw her way back to consciousness. But the dream persisted.

"Don't look for me again. Not until this is all over."

She hated hearing those words.

"Wait!" The barely-concealed desperation in her voice. Stay with me. Just for a little while longer. "The Grimm. How did you keep them from attacking us?"

"That suggests that they don’t have agency." Raven urged the Ursai to let Yang go and beckoned for her to follow. "Tell me, when you see the Grimm, what are your first thoughts? How do you feel?"

"I have to kill it before it kills me."

"And when you see your Faunus friend?"

Yang frowned. "What’s this got to do with the Grimm?"

"Humour me."

"She’s my friend. What do _you_  think?"

The warmth of Raven’s hand on hers. Too much, too much. "If I attacked you right now, how would you respond?" She stepped in front of Yang. "Often when a person displays emotion, we react in kind. Aggression with aggression. Love with love. Sorrow with sorrow. We are empathic creatures so we reflect the emotions of others when it suits us. What if we lack the capacity to distinguish between these emotions, and choose whether or not to respond in kind?"

Yang pulled away. "It can’t be that simple."

The sadness in her mother’s gaze—the pain that comes with parting. Yang wanted to look away but was transfixed by the red of her eyes. "The White Fang was once a peaceful organization. What drove them to turn to violence?"

"You’re saying that the Grimm attack us to protect themselves?"

"Why do we hunt Grimm? Because they hunt us. Why do the Grimm hunt us? Because we fear them. The Grimm don't understand nuances. Hatred, anger, aggression, fear . . . they are emotions that make us feel sick, that make us feel worse afterwards." Raven turned to look at the Grimm, still watching from the shadows. "The Grimm feed on our emotions. And for so long, we have fed them nothing but our fear and our hatred and our desire to kill. Of course they would try to destroy us. We are like the sickness in the bloodstream. To them, we must be eradicated in order for the body to heal."

"So we befriend them with kindness?" Yang stirred uneasily from where she stood, feeling those many eyes on her.

"An untroubled heart that knows only compassion. That is all you need." The implication there. That her mother had felt nothing but love during their conversation.

"I’ve been searching for you for so long. And meeting you now—it hurts me. I'm angry at you, angry that you're leaving me again. If what you say is true, then why aren't they attacking me?"

A red and black portal, much like the one Yang had seen before, appeared behind her mother. "Ask me again, the next time we meet."

Yang woke just as the Grimm converged on her, her heart drumming a tattoo in her chest. That dream again. She pressed a palm over an eye and focused on her breathing, shaky as it was. Eventually, her heart slowed to a steady beat.

The world spun when she pushed herself off the ground; her head felt heavy, and her stomach roiled unpleasantly. She pressed herself against a nearby wall, forehead resting on an arm, and felt tremors go through her body.

It took her a while to realize that the tremors were coming from the ground.

She turned around and froze. Below her were the all-too familiar ruins of Mountain Glenn's underground community. From among the abandoned steel girders, the Grimm ambled aimlessly, their footsteps large, heavy. They towered over unfinished buildings with arms that could easily crush, jaws that could easily grind things to dust.

They were the grotesque figures of nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaune, you _baka_! You're really terrible at reading people.
> 
> Also, fun fact! In one of my pre-writing sessions before I started on this fic, I considered writing a super angsty Pyrrha/Yang fic where they basically end up together because they're both heartbroken over the people that they're actually into, and everything hurts and nothing ever goes right. That's probably why I keep throwing those Pyrrha/Yang comments in. :P
> 
> Oh, and plot!


	7. Chapter 7

Yang's prison was carved into the stone wall, a little alcove that overlooked the wide, open space of the cavern below. There was a metal grate above her, but it was locked. With Ember Celica, Yang might have been able to break it open in one hit, but they had stripped her of her gauntlets, which reduced her punching power by quite a bit. She would have to hit the ceiling more than once and she couldn't risk making that much noise with the Grimm nearby.

She slumped on the floor, her back against the farthest wall.

In trying to master her heart, Yang had killed a lot of Grimm in the Emerald Forest. There had always been something in the way. The animal terror of facing the Grimm while she was vulnerable. The anger and hurt that lingered still at the thought of her mother. And the piercing loneliness that struck at her again and again: the certainty that people would leave her life at some appointed hour, having grown tired of her, preferring others to her company, leaving for some greater cause that she could not be a part of.

Yang settled into a more comfortable position and took a deep breath.

She remembered the warmth of Ruby's arms around her, the adoration in those silver eyes, the laughter and joy that followed wherever they went. She remembered the iciness of Weiss's glare, her searching look, her incessant worrying, her earnest, endearing concern manifesting in strange ways. (Yang had caught her snooping once, in their shared closet. What she might have found there, Yang wasn't sure, but she looked altogether too pleased for Yang's comfort.)

There was team JNPR too. Nora, who approached every challenge with unyielding exuberance, who treated Yang like a comrade-in-arms, dragging her along to every mischief—she was just _so_  infectious. Kindhearted Pyrrha, who always had something good to say, a certified badass who never said no to a practice match; she could make anyone feel capable. Silent Ren, a steady presence and Nora's shadow—he wasn't one to broadcast his feelings, but she had seen the little things that he would do, the pieces of comfort he would leave for his teammates and his friends. (She had once caught him replenishing Ruby's supply of cookies; they'd shared recipes while finishing the rest of the dormitory area.) And who would forget Jaune? Charming, naive Jaune, who tried his best to always be supportive, who asked after everyone in team RWBY, who wheedled Yang for tips on flirting and would occasionally challenge her to a pun-off. (He always lost.) He had made an effort to try and master something that Yang enjoyed, and as terrible as his word play was, that earnest effort was endearing.

She looked at her calloused hands.

And Blake. Yang could think about Blake all day. The contour of her jaw or the golden flecks of her amber eyes. The shape of her lips, the curve of her neck, the softness of her skin. To summarize what Yang thought of Blake in a single adjective was a fucking crime because it was like robbing words from Yang who had so much to say regarding Blake's beauty. Her laughter, her warmth, her secret humour, her passion for books and justice, her patience, her comfort—Yang could keep going, and going, and never run out of things to say. (Though if she continued to list every aspect of Blake that she loved, she would simply forget what she had already said, and start sounding like a broken record after a few hours of constantly playing the song, 'Ode to Blake'.)

She loved the time they spent together: the easy silence, the way they gravitated towards each other, as if seeking the other's warmth, the vulnerability that came with trust, the way they could tear the other's walls down with a smile and a kind word. She felt safe around Blake. When they were together, it always felt like coming home.

And of course that kiss. A confirmation that their feelings were mutual. Yang could still feel the heat of Blake's gaze on her, promising more should she _want_  more, and the heat of her body responding to that desire. Blake could have asked anything from her at that moment, and she would have said yes, lay her body on the table—a willing sacrifice to this goddess made flesh.

Yang focused on the ebb and flow of her breathing, and thought of the affection she had for her friends.

At a young age, she had come to accept that being alone was an eventuality. Like her mother, everyone significant in her life would leave her behind. She was happy for Ruby when she found out that they were attending Beacon Academy together, but she was also afraid. She had hoped the distance of Signal would make the inevitable parting easier, but Ruby had followed her here anyway, and was in the same year as her. And almost against her will, people would gravitate towards her and set foundations in her heart, building permanent fixtures where she had wanted none at all.

They had become her friends. And now they would become her strength.

From their love and affection for her, she fashioned a cloak in her mind, one that would protect her from the aching loneliness that her mother's appearance had recalled. She thought of the last few days, of the strange and sudden, but not unwelcome, interest in her: the impromptu kidnapping, the worried nagging, indulging her selfish requests, and those trusting eyes. She had kept her mother a secret from them, her inner turmoil, and they had respected her silence.

Yang stood at the edge of her prison cell, watching the Grimm below her. She thought only of her friends and what they meant to her, and just as they trusted in her, she would trust in them. She would not be afraid of being alone any longer.

She jumped.

Sensing her presence, the Grimm stirred and turned towards her, red flashing in the dim light of the cavern. Her heart continued its steady beat. She heard the chilling howl of what might have been a Beowolf, if a Beowolf had six arms and stood at almost twenty feet high. And then as one, the Grimm turned away.

Yang squared her shoulders, and with a determined smile, walked among the Grimm.

* * *

Duncan wasn't much of a fighter. Oh, he knew Aura basics —everyone did —and he was proficient enough with guns. But against a superior opponent? His rabbit instincts would take over and then he'd be gone, running as if the hounds of Hell themselves were at his heels. So when they had stumbled into a group of children playing warriors (again), he grabbed Irvine by the arm and was off in the opposite direction.

He didn't get far.

A handful of rose petals fluttered just before him, causing him to stumble. Before Duncan could bring his shotgun up, he felt the blunt end of a scythe hit his leg, sending him sprawling to the ground. Irvine had it worse. Someone had attacked him from behind and had slammed him into the ground face first, using him as a human skateboard. Thank the gods for basic Aura training; Irvine would have surely broken his back otherwise.

He froze at the sight of three figures hovering over him. The silver-haired one stepped forward and in one fluid motion whipped her blade in front of her, its tip pressing uncomfortably against Duncan's nose. "You will tell us where you have taken the prisoners or so help me, I will skin you myself."

Prisoners? He hadn't heard anything about anyone taking in prisoners. But then again, he was a low-level, rabbit Faunus grunt who was mostly charged with patrolling and buying groceries for the White Fang on duty. There were prison cells though—sort of. Maybe he could just point them to that direction?

"No! Stop! Please, I'm very sensitive."

"Okay, okay. Just—don't hurt my friend," said Duncan. He had tried to look at Irvine, but the rapier tapped against his cheek in warning. "Me and Irvine, we're at the bottom of the food chain, so as far as we're concerned, nobody's been taken prisoner."

The shortest of the three crouched and moved closer until her face was a few inches from his. Her expression said, "If you're lying, I will have my friend shove her rapier up your ass." For such a tiny girl, she was pretty terrifying.

"Not my feet," Irvine cried. "I'm especially sensitive there!"

Duncan leaned away from that scrutinizing gaze and said, "If you keep going this direction and turn left at the next fork, it will eventually lead you to a cavern. Um," he gulped and continued, "there are White Fang members though so—I don't know if I should have told you that but there it is—so you could probably interrogate one of them instead. Or! Um, you could keep going. The rightmost path from there should eventually lead you to the uh, the cellblock where we keep some pigs and stuff."

The kid scrunched her face in disgust. "That's terrible!"

"Whoever you're looking for _might_  be there," he added hastily. "Like I said, we aren't told much, but um, that's the only place that I could think of!"

Duncan sighed in relief when they finally gave him some breathing room. He glanced at Irvine and found the man straddled by the orange-haired kid who had attacked him earlier, fingers moving up and down his sides, tickling him mercilessly. Shit man; that's just fucking harsh. Eventually, Shorty returned, looking less thunderous. "We're going to bring you and your friend with us," she said. "Weiss is really bad at directions, so if we get lost, you'll have to tell us where to go."

That—sounded reasonable enough.

"Of course, if you get us more lost, you'll have to answer to Pyrrha." Shorty nodded at the tallest and least intimidating of the three. "Breaking people's legs is a team specialty of theirs."

Duncan nodded spasmodically. Just who the fuck were these kids?

He was pulled to his feet, his shotgun taken from him. "I feel like I've been violated," Irvine grumbled from behind.

"Just be glad we're still alive," said Duncan.

"You could try to be a bit more sympathetic, traitor."

Duncan stared at him and jerked his hands up. _Are you fucking kidding me?_ "Stop," he mimicked, his voice mockingly high, exaggerating every word that had the letter S on it, "please, I am ever so sensitive."

"At least no one tried to tug at your ears," Irvine said, rubbing the scales on his neck self-consciously.

They felt the collective gaze of six people staring blankly at them. Shorty raised an eyebrow. "Nora, what do we do with people who don't cooperate?"

"Ooh! We break their legs!"

Irvine paled at her words. "What the hell are these kids, Duncan?"

"Serious," said Duncan and beckoned for the six to follow him. Irvine matched his step, not wanting to be within reach of these demon children. "These kids are serious."

Irvine, who knew Duncan enjoyed his goofy dad jokes, rolled his eyes. "You really know how to cheer a guy up."

"I do my best."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nora gets her killer entrances from the Saints Row series.
> 
> Also, I get the feeling that Ruby's gonna do a [Nanoha](http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/DefeatMeansFriendship) at them.


	8. Chapter 8

A silver-haired man stood dramatically inside a small alcove overlooking the gigantic Grimm from below. The grate which had previously blocked his prisoner's only means of escape had been opened from above, its lock dangling on the clasp. "I am envious," he said at last. "My child—he still has not learned how to quell his raging heart."

"Mine's a quick study." A woman wearing an elaborate Grimm mask emerged from the shadows. "It helps that she is surrounded by love."

"Love," the man scoffed. "You and I both know that it is not love that governs the Grimm but an iron will." He closed a fist in front of him. "To feel nothing at all—that is what every man should strive towards."

"You wore the mask of the Grimm because you wanted to teach mankind a lesson—"

"That old conceit?" He laughed bitterly. "I once loved this world with such aching ferocity, Raven. But I see now that love gets in the way of what is truly important." He turned and met her gaze defiantly, his own half-mask blank save for a pair of slits. "To save the world from itself, we must remove its festering limbs."

"There was a time when you considered us comrades, Argent." Raven stepped into the light, her odachi at the ready. "We can still go back to that time, and work towards a future where both of our people could co-exist. Together."

Argent pulled his over-robe off, revealing scarred flesh underneath. Bracers manifested around his forearms: black and silver, with bullets underneath folded metal like waves lapping up his arms. "You killed Dan. You _killed_  my best friend." He lifted his head, his horns gleaming underneath the industrial lights. "The only future that we can have together, is if we are both dead." He threw a jab forward, sending a disc of flame flying towards Raven, who blocked the attack with ease. "If you are as committed to your cause as I am to mine, then come and kill me." He jumped backwards and fell into the swarm of Grimm below.

The Grimm howled and stumbled out of the way, confused and frightened as Aura erupted in the middle of the cavern. In their confusion, they turned to each other, and with claws and teeth tore at flesh, snapping, scratching wildly. Though they were old and far more intelligent than their younger kin, the misery that had coloured the air—a bittersweet love that had twisted into knife-wrenching hatred—tugged at their animal minds and made them feral. A sense of betrayal and a desire to die clouded their minds like poison.

Within minutes, the room had been cleared of the Grimm, their corporeal bodies disappearing into nothingness, the scratch marks and indentations left on the walls, the only indication that they had once been there.

Argent jumped and twisted out of the way of Raven's blade, landing on all fours a few feet away, the momentum of his retreat sending him skittering across the surface of the floor. He ripped the mask off his face, revealing an anguished, beautiful visage, as if his very features had been taken from a marble statue of a tormented man. Tears fell on the ground as he let out a strangled cry, a send-off to the dead.

To an outsider, the sight of this man crying over the fallen Grimm would seem very strange indeed. But Raven understood the pain that Argent felt, and pitied him. She replaced her sword back into its sheath and waited.

Children. That's what the Grimm were. Children who could only mimic a parent's smile or frown, who fought petulantly or with genuine fear in their hearts. Was this the kind of world Argent wanted to build? Where children attacked each other out of the betrayal and anger their parents had imposed upon them—taught them hatred and prejudice, shaped them into these terrible, nightmare silhouettes?

Argent cried, as if a parent in a funeral for a dozen of his children—the only children who had ever loved him—and felt the connections he had made with these creatures severed by the very pain he had tried to bury these last few years. He stood on shaky feet and lifted his arms in a fighter's stance. Dead eyes stared back at Raven.

Who were the real monsters that inhabited this world?

Us, of course, he thought bitterly. It's always been us—even from the very start.

The air solidified around him as a pair of claws, visible only to other Aura users, extended from his knuckles. They met in a clash of explosive energy, Argent's fearsome Aura cut neatly in half by Raven's odachi. Like the very giants that had occupied the great cavern before, they fought with heavy footsteps, the sheer power of their strikes causing the very air itself to feel oppressive.

Argent darted in and out of Raven's reach, manifesting temporary footholds in the form of knives digging against the ground, allowing him to change direction without losing much of his momentum. However, despite his insane speed and clever use of misdirection, Raven met every swipe, and every kick, and every sickle of fire with the blunt edge of her blade, flowing from one guard stance to the next without hesitation, tracking his movements with little difficulty.

All of this had occurred in the blink of an eye. Around them, wisps of Aura leaked from the scattered knives, leaving behind a strange pattern of holes. Raven had not moved from where she stood. To the casual observer, it seemed as if she had not drawn her blade at all.

Argent lifted one hand up and beckoned for her to attack him.

He stepped forward and twisted his hips, punching with the full force of his Aura. Raven's mask shattered from the impact of his punch, revealing an equally distraught face, the newly-opened gash from a stray piece from her mask making the porcelain-like flesh underneath more human. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "But I didn't kill Dan. He was already dead by the time I had returned."

"I know," Argent said, clutching at her sword which had struck a vital organ, blood pooling underneath him. "My foolish son, Adam—he is always looking towards the future."

"You could have burned the poison out of your body at any time," Raven said quietly.

"You know?"

"Even now I can smell it on you." She pulled the odachi slowly from him, and in one fluid motion, had returned it to its sheath. "What does he hope to accomplish by killing you?"

"What else?" Argent spread his arms. "A reality where only the Faunus walk the earth."

Raven turned her back towards Argent. "With you dead, my mission is complete."

"You will not kill my son?" There was hope in his voice—even now. It was easy to put things together from there. The half-hearted kidnap attempt, this contrived meeting, his selfish goodbye to the only children who had ever looked to him with respect . . . Argent wanted to absolve his son by having another murder him: a request between estranged friends.

"I don't make promises to dead men."

* * *

Yang could barely see, even with her Semblance activated.

The tunnel before her was long and winding, and seemed to go on forever. If this was a kind of prison too, Yang thought, then whoever designed the shit out of this place deserves a raise. She rapped a knuckle against the wall, found it frustratingly solid still, and ambled on. Cave-ins. Wouldn't want to start those. Though if that next bend offered more of the same, Yang just might _cave in_  and wreck the place, safety margins be damned.

Coming face-to-face with the bifurcated bitch herself was almost a relief. "You're a sight for sore eyes," Yang said, giving Neo a predatory grin. A cheerful person like Yang had several grins in her arsenal. This one promised casual mischief, cheeky flirting, and broken bones. "I could almost kiss you right now."

Neo's expression was a canvas of conflicting emotions: horrified disgust and blushing curiosity. Yang had that effect on women. (The latter part, that is. Yang was so fucking charming that ordinary White Fang operatives and criminals on the run didn't mind getting beaten up, if it meant the last image burned into their minds was this angel of death come upon them.) In the end, she took a few steps back, unfurled her umbrella in front of her, and gave Yang an equally flirtatious wink, the very image of a modest noblewoman playing coy with a potential suitor.

Conscious of her lack of weaponry, Yang eased herself into a more defensive stance after discarding her overcoat, palms up, mimicking Pyrrha's fighting stance that first time they practised hand-to-hand together. There was something unfair about fighting against a clever opponent; Yang was used to winning with her fists and ferocity alone, used to outlasting the enemy with her incredible endurance. But fighting against Pyrrha had proven one thing to Yang: her Semblance had a glaring weakness.

It relied too much on the amount of damage she took.

And Neo—she preferred to deflect Yang's attacks and catch her off-guard; use her force against her. It was a shit match-up, if Yang had to be honest about the situation, but she always managed—in the end. She disappeared in a blur of movement.

Her first hits were cautious, tentative. Neo was amused by her probing strikes and read them at face value. When Yang swooped in for a throw that sent both of them crashing to the ground, the fury etched on her pretty face was enough to make Yang feel victorious. Now this . . . this felt like familiar territory.

Neo fought like a cornered rat, scratching, and biting, her usual arrogance giving way to vicious desperation. Yang would have made a quip about the neon bitch liking it rough, but it was taking all of her energy just to keep the smaller woman pinned underneath her. It was having the desired effect on her body though.

She was smothering Neo with her breasts—say hello to my fucking weapons rack, bitch!—when the thought came to her, and she almost choked with suppressed laughter. An elbow to her solar plexus knocked the wind out of her, loosening her grip on Neo. She activated the full force of her Semblance just before Neo could get away, and threw her dominant fist forward. It would have sent Neo crashing to the wall if not for her umbrella which she managed to raise in time.

Yang watched in smug satisfaction as it broke in half, blade and all. Neo gripped her umbrella to her chest and disappeared in a flash of light and Aura, leaving a battered Yang wheezing on the ground, still laughing weakly despite her injuries.

"Yang?"

She twisted, her arms already going up in a parody of a fighting stance, and saw red eyes glittering with amusement. "Oh. Hi, mom."

"So many lovely ladies you've been rolling around with lately," her mother drawled. "I didn't know I was raising a Casanova."

"You weren't raising me at all."

Raven gave her a crooked half-smile. "And so cheeky too. You should really introduce me sometime to one of those lady-friends you’ve been Raven about lately."

“Mom!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to showcase how cool Raven was this chapter (because she is made of swoon) and ended up just writing her as a pun-loving dork. Also, my best friend's reaction upon reading this chapter: "So . . . were they fighting or having rough sex?"
> 
> So this fic is ending soon. I'll probably write a Penny/Ruby future one-shot set in this universe at some point, simply because while I was considering potential fics to write after Little Dragon, I had planned the various pairings that would have happened years in the future (in case I wanted to write a sequel), and I sort of guessed what would happen before it happened. We'll see!
> 
> In the mean time, why not drop by my [tumblr](http://textbookmobster.tumblr.com/) and say hello?


	9. Chapter 9

In Blake's defense, she had completely misread the situation. Yang was looking underdressed with her sleeves rolled up, and a few of her front buttons missing. She had caught a glimpse of bite marks too, along Yang's forearms and neck, which had made her feel unreasonably territorial.

So when she saw that woman from the forest strangling her _girlfriend_  in a headlock, her hackles had gone up. She prepared her makeshift weapon, her bow straightening with her Aura, and lunged forward.

Big mistake.

She fell face first on something soft and warm, and very much Yang-shaped.

"My, my," the woman murmured in a rich, mellifluous tone, as if she had not just been party to Blake's sudden reacquaintance of Yang's body. "Children these days are so _shameless_."

From her position, cushioned between Yang's considerable assets, Blake could hear the starting rumble of a groan. "Can you just _not_?" In any other situation, Blake would have found Yang's horrified embarrassment endearing; however, being in a similar position, she chose to press her blushing face against Yang's neck instead and remain quiet, her cat ears twitching anxiously.

"I'll want a proper introduction, the next time we meet." And with those ominous words, she was gone.

Blake felt a calloused hand stroking her hair, lightly brushing against her ears. She relaxed under Yang's soothing ministrations. "Sorry," Yang mumbled. "I'm beginning to think that my mom is just awful at taking people seriously."

Blake leaned on her elbows. Amber eyes slowly scrutinized Yang's face, from the pleasant flush on her cheeks, to her lips, to the noticeable bite mark on her neck. "I can see where she gets it from."

Yang tweaked her nose, breaking the moment. "Don't you want me to take you seriously?"

"I don't know," Blake said, leaning forward until their lips almost touched. "I quite like your impulsive side."

They jumped apart at the sound of a piercing wolf whistle.

"And just when things were about to get interesting," the snake Faunus at the front of the group muttered. He got a slap to the back of his head from an exasperated Weiss.

"You could learn a few things from Blake, Pyrrha," Nora said cheerfully. A second slap to the head echoed across the tunnel.

"Yang! Blake!" Ruby threw herself into Yang's waiting arms and snuggled closer. "You okay?"

"Glad to see you too, kid." Yang ruffled Ruby's hair and deftly buttoned her shirt up to hide the bite marks which would surely raise a few eyebrows. "I'll have to pay you back for the suit," she added, by way of apology to Jaune.

"Don't worry about it," Jaune said, grinning from ear to ear. "It went to a good cause."

"Ugh, I'm surrounded by children," said Weiss.

"What did I do now?"

"You clearly—" Weiss waved her hand vaguely and sighed. "You know what? I'm not even going to dignify that with a response."

"She thinks you're deriving enjoyment from watching two women make out," Ren supplied in his usual monotone.

"I'm just glad that our efforts paid off," Jaune countered, looking meaningfully at Yang who was smiling over Ruby's head, making heart-eyes at Blake.

"Weiss so serious?" Nora said, slinging an arm around Weiss's shoulders.

"Permission to kill your teammates?" Weiss hissed at Pyrrha.

"Permission denied."

There was a general air of relief at the sight of their two friends, clearly unharmed for the most part. They crowded around the pair, giving each other high fives over a job well done (despite their rescue party being a bit late to the . . . well, rescue party). Eventually, Ruby looked up at her sister, some secret motive clearly behind her doe-eyed expression. "Hey, Yang?"

"Yes, Ruby?"

"Can I keep them?" Ruby asked sweetly, pointing at the two Faunus standing awkwardly to the side.

"I'm a grown-ass man," Snake protested.

"I require feeding three times a day," his companion added, looking not in the least bit offended.

"He also has eight brats at home. I counted," Snake deadpanned.

"They're a bit large for strays, aren't they?" asked Pyrrha.

"In case you've forgotten," Weiss interjected, "they're members of the White Fang."

Ruby turned the full force of her puppy-dog eyes at Blake. Flustered, Blake tore her gaze away from Ruby only to feel another pair of pleading eyes from the elder sibling. Traitor. "I uh, I think it's worth asking why they joined the White Fang at least."

"Well?" Weiss tapped her fingers on an arm impatiently. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

The two dunces exchanged nervous looks. "Why are we even having this conversation?" Snake blurted out before Rabbit could say something more diplomatic. Having already dug his grave, he continued, "I mean, shouldn't you kids just drag us to the nearest authorities? We're technically the bad guys."

"A bad guy would have tried to talk us into setting them free," Jaune pointed out.

"We're really _stupid_  bad guys," Rabbit responded almost immediately.

"I get the feeling that they don't want us to take them home," Yang said, ruffling Ruby's hair. "You must have left quite the impression on them."

"If by impression, you mean threatened bodily harm then yes!" Snake hid behind his friend, giving off a general air of mistrust at Nora, who watched them with mild amusement.

"I didn't mean it _literally_ ," Ruby grumbled. "I mean, wouldn't it be great if we could stop the White Fang somehow, by being friends with all of them?"

"Are you an idiot?" Weiss sighed. "No, don't answer that. Of course you are."

"She's got a point though." Yang stood up and offered a hand to Blake who took it without a second thought. "The White Fang had a reason to hate us. And we haven't exactly had the cleanest record when it comes to treating Faunus with respect. So why not?" She laughed and scratched her head. "I mean, sure we can't be friends with _all_  of them. But I'm sure if we just try, we could get more of them on our side."

"That's suspiciously out of character for you, Yang. Aren't you always the kind who punches first and asks questions later?"

"That's because," Yang said, looking very pleased with herself, "I actually learned something from my mom for once."

It was as if the breath Yang had been holding all this time had finally been released—the burden of her secret finally laid bare before them. Blake caught her hand, and intertwined their fingers in silent comfort. There was nothing left to say except maybe, _I am glad for you._  Because why shouldn't she be? Yang was here, and so very much _alive_ and _hers_  and _happy_. Yang, who was finally ready to talk about her mother, who looked at them with such aching fondness. Whatever ordeal she had faced that night, it had done more than just overcome whatever emotional block had dragged her down ever since her mother had made herself known. The love that shone in her eyes was bright and effusive. It was the love that one might express, after coming home at last to her family.

"Will you tell us your secret now?" Ruby asked excitedly.

Blake burned that sudden smile in her memory and in her heart, another cherished moment cataloged in her archives. Yang squeezed her hand and said with sudden fragility, a bird testing its wings for the first time, "Why don't I tell you over the drive back?"

* * *

Notifying the Association regarding her mission was as backwards as it was ten years ago. You would think with the advent of Scroll technology they'd stop using bird messengers as their main form of communication, but that's the Huntsman Association for you—frustratingly smug and set in their old ways. Raven took some measure of satisfaction at the sight of the overly-large Nevermore flapping towards HQ in the east, bearing her mission report.

"That's a little too much, isn't it?" Glynda Goodwitch asked, eyeing her colleague as a lion tamer might eye its ward.

"They've come to expect the unexpected from me," Raven said, resting a hand on the pommel of her blade. "I'm simply ensuring that those expectations are met."

"That's unsurprisingly childish of you."

"You think so little of me," Raven said, moving away from the edge of the roof. Together, they headed for the elevator that would bring them down to the Headmaster's Office.

"I think highly of . . . your abilities." Glynda adjusted her glasses and looked pointedly at the mask hanging on Raven's belt. "Your methods, however, continue to baffle me."

"That's what makes me so charming." Raven said the words absently, more knee-jerk reflex than anything else.

"You are so—"

"Infuriatingly perfect?" Raven stepped off the elevator and winked at Glynda. "It's a bird-en we Branwens must bear."

The elevator closed before Glynda could come up with the perfect rejoinder.

"You're in a cheerful mood."

"I'm surprised that you're still awake." Raven folded her arms and stared at Ozpin coolly. "You called for me, Headmaster?"

A heavy silence descended upon them. Raven often hid her intentions with an easy smile and a few coy words. Her daughter was very much like her in that regard. But where the daughter might default to her usual charm when faced with someone more powerful than her, Raven simply dropped all pretenses. Like lazy predators ambling, circling each other warily, they sized each other up. Ozpin was the first to bare his throat in acknowledgement, though they both knew it was little more than formality between S-rank Hunters. "I'd like to offer you a job."

"So soon?" Raven twisted her lips in an ironic parody of a smile. "At least give me time to get to know my daughter properly."

Ah. Was she still bitter about that? "I believed you were the best person for the job at the time. Considering you have just finished that job satisfactorily, don't tell me you think there would have been someone better suited to study the Grimm."

"The organization that I built and destroyed with my own hands . . ." In the twitch of a muscle, Raven sent her mask flying; it skittered on top of the desk, its ugly facade leering back at Ozpin. "And all for what? I lost seventeen years of my daughter's life to this mission. And so much more."

"Which is exactly why I think you would find this job an apology of sorts. It also takes advantage of your unique skillset."

Raven arched an eyebrow. "Charming I might be, but your general is as clueless about romance as a rock. I'd have better chances with his assistant. Winter Schnee was it?"

"I'm not referring to your assets, Raven."

"Everyone does, sooner or later."

Ozpin drank from his cup to hide his exasperation. "I'd like to offer you a position in my teaching staff. An excellent professor Peter might be when it comes to the more practical aspects of fighting Grimm, but I've heard that his theory is dry and lacking in certain areas."

"You mean he's boring."

"That he is."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun facts:
> 
> All of my Raven bird puns were actually written with Qrow in mind. But since Raven had more speaking lines, and Qrow just got grouchier the more I thought of him, I ended up making Raven the funny one in the family.
> 
> Also! Duncan has eight children: Alistair (the eldest), Cousland, Amell, Surana, Tabris, Mahariel, Aeducan, and Brosca.


	10. Epilogue

"Have you ever fallen out of love?"

Raven glanced at her companion, old feelings stirring at the sight of that familiar shock of blond hair, the crooked set of his mouth, and those broad, expressive shoulders, and smiled faintly. Taiyang always had an air of reliability about him, one that she had silently, admittedly missed over the years. "Have you?"

He huffed and looked away. Between the two of them, he had always been the shy one. "I asked you first, idiot."

They bumped shoulders, a familiar gesture between friends. "If there's anything that I learned from my time away," Raven said, "it's that emotions are finicky things. I think it would be simpler on everyone involved if I did fall out of love with you."

"Is that so?" The tone was playful, though his expression was wary.

"I'm not a very honest person by nature, Tai," she said, a beat later. "To say that I had loved you to begin with would be—"

"Ah. Say no more." And just like that, Taiyang understood. That had always been his strong point—and his weakness. In the end, he was a stupid, cowardly man who would rather skirt around a topic than confront it directly, not when he could guess at the outcome with startling proficiency.

Still, there were some things that had to be said, and Raven wasn't about to pull her punches. "You were a source of comfort," she said, gaze returning to the distant forms of their daughters talking quietly to Summer's grave. "Someone I could fall back to—a steady presence. I may not have loved you the way you loved me, but I trusted you."

 _And you abandoned Yang._  The words hung awkwardly in the air, unsaid as most things were between them.

"For what it's worth," Taiyang said, "I have no excuses."

Raven's arm snaked out of nowhere, her fist stopping just an inch from Taiyang's face. "You should be grateful our daughter gets the best of our genes."

"My good looks and your courage?" Taiyang asked.

" _My_  good looks you mean," teased Raven. "She gets your temper though. And her penchant for the dramatic."

"Are you sure we're not talking about you?"

"It's part of the outfit." This time, it was Raven who broke eye contact, fingers tangling with her dark, wild locks: a glimpse of her vulnerable side. Taiyang knew better than to fall for her damsel in distress act however.

"Neither of us were ready for a kid," Taiyang said. There was no kindness this time, just the certainty that comes with stating hard facts. "But Summer—she was always good at covering our asses at a critical moment."

"I'm glad she found someone, in the end." That old mischief in the quirk of her lips. They relaxed a fraction at the thought of their most beloved teammate. She was always, without a doubt, the heart of team STRQ. "Although, I bet I would have made a better husband than you. At least in the bedroom."

They shared canine-sharp grins. "I missed this," Taiyang admitted. "Even if your humour is as bad as ever."

"So," Raven said, sounding altogether too pleased, like a cat that just ate a canary, "did Yang ever tell you that she's dating someone now?"

Taiyang bristled, all protective father mode in the span of a heartbeat. "I should have applied as a professor for Beacon Academy when I had the chance," he muttered. "Where's the little shit who thought it would be a good idea to date _my_  daughter?"

"You're late to the party, Tai. I already beat the shit out of her once. And threatened her with a full entourage of Grimm." She clapped his shoulder rather pathetically in mock comfort. "Think you can top that?"

"Please don't kill my girlfriend," Yang interjected. She shot Raven a warning glance and nodded at her father.

"Yeah! As team leader, I can't let you hurt our precious teammate," Ruby added, putting up her dukes while hitting Taiyang with the full force of her puppy-dog pout. "Please? She's really nice once you get to know her! She's like the sister I never had."

"We are not having any more children, if that's what you're hinting," Taiyang deadpanned, even as Yang protested, "What do you mean 'like the sister you never had'?"

Ruby turned her heart-melting expression at Raven, who twitched at the sight of those large, adorable eyes staring pitifully at her. "Wouldn't you agree that Blake would totally make for an awesome in-law?"

"The very best," Raven said solemnly. Really, what other appropriate response could there be when Ruby gives you that particular Look?

"You've won me over," Ruby said, equally serious. "Can I call you Mom too?"

"Well obviously," Raven said, ignoring Yang's wild gesticulations, promising murder and more. "Summer's always going to be Mom-One to you, so I am definitely Mom-Two."

* * *

Tired and sweaty from their recent victory, the fearsome four found stools inside their favourite noodle stall and waved at the pair of Faunus who hovered next to the owner, watching with rapt attention as the old man demonstrated his mad cooking skills. Noodles were gloriously flung to the air in a gravity-defying feat, bowls appearing out of nowhere just as they began their descent downwards, hitting the mark each time. Duncan and Snake were predictably awed by this, and brought the bowls in front of team RWBY with bright-eyed, lovestruck gazes.

"Enjoying your new jobs, I see," Yang teased, in between mouthfuls of near-orgasmic noodles.

Snake—Irvine just wasn't as _badass_  a name—beckoned to the old man glowing with quiet pride. "Have you seen the way he cooks?"

His more mellow counterpart nodded. "And he has been nothing but kind to us."

"The children absolutely adore him too," Snake said with the kind of insider information a platonic heterosexual life partner might have.

Blake, who had finished her bowl with surprising quickness, smiled contentedly. "Are you happier here?"

There was a chorus of affirmatives as Duncan—because some people actually _acted_ their ages—returned with dessert for Blake. "On the house," he said firmly. "We're incredibly grateful for everything that you've done for us."

Blake caught a glimpse of Snake sneaking a bag of cookies to Ruby while Weiss wasn't looking, and squeezed Duncan's hand which was still holding the plate. "If anything, I should be thanking you," she said, "for showing us that it's still possible to save the White Fang."

Duncan inclined his head and bustled over to the livelier side of the stall, which had grown louder with the arrival of team JNPR.

Blake felt a sudden weight on her shoulder and found Yang leaning against her, practically dead to the world. She'd been burning the carpet the previous night, ever since she found out that her mother was going to be playing co-host to the Vytal Tournament, and had pretty much been a one-woman army during their fight. Blake flushed in triumph at the memory of their impromptu combo, which had resulted in a triple knockout. Ruby was already scheming to trademark the line: "My girlfriend is also a weapon." and sell shirts and other similar 'swag' to fund their future wedding. (When did that get decided?)

She nibbled on the fish-shaped pastry and felt the beast in her breast basking under the sunlight-warmth of this peace, this shared camaraderie between friends—the promise of a better future in the fondness of their eyes, their silent acceptance so easily given, and the Faunus answering in kind as if such relationships were only natural. Finally, finally, she could begin to hope again.

* * *

The Crow Bar. It was disgustingly serendipitous how he ended up in front of it, as if the very gods had fallen over themselves in trying to accommodate him by casually rewriting reality and plopping a bar bearing his namesake out in the middle of nowhere. (It wasn't like he was lost in the streets of Vale for fuck's sake.) Still, his usual haunts were brimming with people, and he wasn't currently drunk enough to get bodily acquainted with several strangers. He slipped inside with all the disinterested air of a cat walking into a kitchen.

"Whiskey on the rocks," he said, slouching in front of the counter, squinting at the bright-eyed youth staring expectantly back at him.

The bartender slid a glass in front of him and hovered nearby with the hungry-eyed look of someone hoping to start a conversation. "Got any real entertainment here?" he drawled a second later: a not-so-subtle hint that he didn't find the bartender's invitation to talk appealing in the least.

"Oh, right!" The bartender scrambled for the remote underneath the register and turned the TV on after a few comical fumbles as he tried to keep the remote from slipping from his grasp. "I heard we have a good batch of kids this year," he said with a proud grin, turning the channel (predictably) to the Vytal Tournament being aired in real-time.

Qrow snorted. "Children playing at warriors. Little more than slapstick comedy."

The bartender laughed awkwardly and watched in mild horror at the unfolding argument on screen.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?"

"Trying to have a team meeting," the blond shouted back. "Thank you very little."

His teammate stepped forward, stabbing a finger at her left ear. "Yeah! Team ears only."

They exchanged a few heated words, the blond just about ready to throw a hissy fit, when their redhead reigned them in. With an exasperated gesture from their leader, their hammer user sent team BRNZ flying towards the audience while the rest of her team watched with varying expressions of disinterest.

"Team BRNZ sure did take a hammering," one half of the commentating duo said, blithely ignoring the boos that came with the pun-slaught. "Guess you could say someone was still on the anvil when team JNPR struck them out."

"They really hit the nail on the head with that one, didn't they, Dr. Oobleck?" Qrow dropped the glass he'd been nursing at the all-too familiar voice coming from the TV screen. When they cut to the commentators' booth where a pissed-off Port was hovering over the pair of punning miscreants, Qrow abruptly stood up, downright thunderstruck at the sight of his sister casually appearing on national fucking television.

"Well, gosh darn it," the bartender muttered at the broken glass on the floor.

"I should go," Qrow said, voice rough, mirroring his brittle heart which seemed to strain with some alien emotion. It took him a moment to realize that he was feeling the sharp, knife-twist stab of longing. He sighed and threw some Lien on the counter, shoulders returning to their customary slouch as he stepped into the streets. Atlas airships soared above him, reminding him of another bone he'd love to pick at some point.

But for now . . . their little family reunion was just about overdue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Aaaand_ that's the end of that! Thank you for those who stuck around and commented on my fic. You're all lovely as fuck, and I adore every one of you. Just sayin'.
> 
> I _might_ write some more one-shots set in this universe some day. We'll see. I have stories to explore, project managers to appease, and dry textbooks to read. (The mobster life, amirite?)
> 
> Some notes on the fic:
> 
> I once considered writing an AU where Blake is Ruby's biological sister and Yang is the defector. So yes, technically Blake _is_ the sister Ruby never had?
> 
> Also, Raven and dad jokes. It was just a matter of time.


End file.
